


An Honest Breakdown

by Little Giant (Destini)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Humor, Humor, Love at First Sight, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destini/pseuds/Little%20Giant
Summary: Udai meets Bokuto, Bokuto almost knocks him unconscious.Briefly, there was a relapse. An honest breakdown. It was maybe Tenma’s third one since he graduated, the first one being over three years agoongraduation night. To be fair, he’d been drunk out of his mind and forgotten at a bar by his also drunk friends.Ex-friends.Whatever. The distinction was unimportant (as Tenma often reminds himself whenever the memory unexpectedly creeps up).
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Udai Tenma
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Destini's Favorites/Recommendations





	An Honest Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> What is this ship name? I have:
> 
> BokUdai (another ship name)  
> BokuUdai (sounds like another ship name)  
> BokuTen (an 18+ video game)  
> BokMa (apparently a beer)  
> Pain (most accurate)
> 
> EDIT (2020.10.05): Thank you AO3 user @21tales for the idea, I hereby marry this ship as **BokuUda/UdaBoku** since it's more in line with Japanese HQ ship naming!

Briefly, there was a relapse. An honest breakdown. It was maybe Tenma’s third one since he graduated, the first one being over three years ago _on_ graduation night. To be fair, he’d been drunk out of his mind and forgotten at a bar by his also drunk friends.

Ex-friends.

Whatever. The distinction was unimportant (as Tenma often reminds himself whenever the memory unexpectedly creeps up).

_This_ relapse was brought on by a 109-kilogram bulldozer who literally smashed in a reminder of what his life might’ve been had he decided he loved volleyball more than manga. It happened in his living room, no alcohol but the scent of bourbon and spiced cologne when the bulldozer’s broad chest collided with his nose.

“Hey, hey, heeeyy! Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, you’re so tiny!”

Ah, yes, his stature. Tenma’s head swarmed with echoes of a past life as he tried to find up from down.

_Tiny. Small. Unfortunate. Little Giant._

_If only and what if._

“Oh man, I think he has a concussion. He’s crying!”

“Bokuto-san, go call the hospital.”

Tenma frantically waved his hands from where he lay pathetically crumpled on the ground, dressed in old, black sweats with new, fuzzy socks. The waving was partly for attention and mostly to stave off any hospital bills or awkward nurse conversations. Both voices stopped. His editor slowly crept into view, bending down to look him in the eyes. Akaashi was blurry in his vision, but the familiar lines of a frown–the one he gives him every time they discuss deadlines–were wavy on his face. This was embarrassing.

Maybe top 30 embarrassing moments of the year, even though it was only March.

He was crying harder now at that revelation.

“Bokuto-san—”

“ _Wait_ , stop. I’m okay. Sorry,” Tenma hiccupped.

“Are you in pain?” Akaashi asked, some emotion leaking out of his usually stoic voice.

Tenma gulped and shook his head, afraid of sobbing if he spoke again and undoing his very bare minimum hard work. It’s not like he was that sad and wanted to cry, it was just something that happened when his entire being was trying to escape his dimension.

“Should I put him on the couch?” the bulldozer asked.

Tenma wanted to say no, afraid of giant, mechanical arms lifting and killing him. Maybe they’d be too cold or pinch into his skin or launch him into the sun. That might be a great sci-fi comic title. Maybe if he got canceled early, he could pitch something about being launched into the sun. Maybe he should go into poetry. Maybe—

“Bokuto-san will put you on the couch now. It’s okay, he’s a close friend of mine.”

And although it was whispered, Tenma still heard the, “ _Please, be gentle_.”

His attempt to escape was short-lived. The arms were giant and hard, but not mechanical. Soft in some parts even, it was human skin that wrapped around his torso and effortlessly picked him up, bridal-style. The bulldozer walked a few steps away to lean Tenma’s back into the couch, cradling his head into the cushions before brushing hair out of his face.

Tenma blinked and wiped away his tears to get a good look at this apparent ‘good friend’ of Akaashi.

“Wait— _MSBY_ Bokuto?” he sputtered.

It was indeed MSBY Bokuto, all chest all day, with wide, gentle eyes, wearing regular gray sweats instead of his usual black-and-gold uniform. His white-and-black-streaked hair was down instead of up. Wow, ‘Bokuto beam’ himself. Volleyball hero, crowd pleaser, incredibly hot.

Bokuto gave a lopsided grin at the attention, crouched down to be eye-level with him. “Real sorry about that,” he began, hands moving to emphasize because he apparently couldn’t be still, “Akkun always says I need to slow down. It’s nice to meet you, though. He talks about you a lot; he also says maybe I should talk less—oh.”

Tenma gave a small, breathy laugh, eyeing the energetic but friendly man’s easy-breezy composure. One might think he didn’t crash into someone and nearly give them a concussion a few minutes ago. One might think the famous ‘Bokuto beam’ was literal, a side-effect of his sunny disposition. Launched into the sun, Tenma squinted. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m not hurt, sorry for scaring you.”

_Just my regularly scheduled breakdown._

“Why are you apologizing? He said you were weird and you are!” he guffawed, brushing more of his long, black curls out of his face as if they were close friends. Warm hands. Tenma’s mind was still frazzled, staring at him and thinking of solar-powered androids, too human to not be considered one, and yet too beautiful to not be feared.

Bokuto took a step forward, chin hitting the couch. “Hello?”

“Oh. Yes.” Tenma answered, before remembering what Bokuto had said. “I’m a bit weird,” he murmured.

Bokuto propped up his chin fully, his minty breath tickling Tenma’s nose. He glanced behind him at Akaashi, who now was watching their exchange with disinterest, and then back down to him.

“You’re real pretty, too.”

Tenma waited for the punchline of the joke, but when Bokuto didn’t give one, he felt his cheeks coloring. “Oh… uh, thanks.”

“I hope we can become good friends, too,” he continued. He rested his arms on the couch, peering over at him curiously.

“Sure, Bokuto-san,” Tenma grinned. What a forward guy. “We can. Is it okay if I call you that?”

“Just Bokuto is fine. What can I call you?”

He paused, staring into Bokuto’s eyes that made his hopes and desires so overly, abundantly, painstakingly clear. Maybe if Tenma was a saner person or even a little more careful, he wouldn’t say, “Tenma… Just Tenma is fine. I don’t care about titles and stuff.”

Bokuto beamed at him in a new way, no pointing fingers and cheering crowds involved. His eyelashes blinked slowly and Tenma watched them each time. Bokuto had big eyes, he thought. Big arms and chest, of course, but a big everything. Big presence, big smell. Was a big smell a thing? Tenma could make it a thing, since Bokuto had already made it a thing with his spiced cologne and minty breath.

It was only the third relapse. But this had to have been the better one. Maybe. It was still only March. Three months into the year, three minutes into developing a heady crush on Bokuto whose hair kept calling for his fingers to run through.

His new crush took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Tenma! Oh, Keiji,” he laughed, turning to throw his sunshine grin back on him, “I love him already!”

He shouldn’t throw out words like that!

Tenma was at a loss for this exuberant guy who’d latched onto him out of—what— _pity_ for smashing into him? But even after meeting him like this in such a short time, Tenma wasn’t sure if that was the kind of guy Bokuto was. He was too big for small things like that, unlike him, who apologized to grocery store attendants for ringing him up incorrectly. Somehow, being rung up incorrectly at a grocery store didn’t seem like a prospect in the world of someone like Bokuto, the main character of an exciting life riddled with V. League and overcoming impossibility.

Well, Tenma was a little impossible himself.

He wondered what all Akaashi said about him before. They hadn’t been working together long, but if Bokuto was going to flail over him and call him pretty, borderline flirting, maybe he didn’t mind being talked about. _Was_ it borderline? Was Bokuto flirting with him? That would be obnoxious, hurting someone then trying to get a date.

Well, it’s not like he’d say no. Maybe they’re _both_ obnoxious.

Assuming the entire notion of flirting wasn’t a delusion. Would Akaashi know if Bokuto was flirting with him or not? He could ask.

Tenma glanced up to Akaashi’s face and froze. He was staring at the back of Bokuto’s head as he chatted away again, a familiar look of pain and longing barely hidden behind the thin line of his lips.

Ah, shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago and can't let it go so now you get to read my brainrot. No, I will not be continuing it.


End file.
